Good Vibrations
by rowanashke
Summary: Daylen is lonely and more and more he's missing what he never had...and then he discovers something interesting about his new Seneschal's voice that interests him...voicekink fill for the kink meme. solo, one-sided m!Amell/Teagan, with some 'help' from Garavel.


So. Tah Dah? I don't know how much I love this story, but it's an attempt, at least. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing again, but it's been really hard.

This is a prompt from the dragon age kink meme:

_So, this voicekinking anon would like a Warden (gender/race optional) with a secret crush on Teagan to suddenly notice the "similarity" between Teagan's voice and Garevel's. Whatever transpires is up to clever anon. Having clueless Garevel talk through a door to a secretly wanking Warden would be pretty hot, though. A short little oneshot would be just fine_

This turned a bit more melancholy than I wanted, but hopefully, enjoy.

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Daylen sighed and pushed his robe off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a wet thump. Outside of his leaded glass windows, the rain still sleeted against the Keep, just short of snow in the way that made it somehow worse-clinging, wet, freezing mess. He'd just come in from touring the Keep and was cold through his bones, despite the wonderfully warm robes he'd been gifted by a generous and thankful Dwarven merchant.

Closing his eyes, he contemplated performing a warming spell, but a quick check of his reserves stopped that notion in its tracks. He was more than just physically exhausted-mentally and spiritually, he was running on dangerously low levels.

At least the latest series of disasters appeared to be winding themselves down. After defeating the Mother and managing to save Amaranthine, coming back to a half-destroyed Keep had hurt Daylen deeply. Still, it could have been worse. Most of the men were still alive. They'd lost Justice…which wasn't really that bad a thing, considering that he'd only really been half with them to begin with. And Anders seemed to have…disappeared. No one knew if the mage was dead or if he'd simply run…but Nathaniel was making it his grim business to find out. Daylen felt bad for the ex-noble thief. Having one's lover possibly run out from under you…

_At least he had a lover_, Daylen thought a touch bleakly. His last lover, the only one who'd ever really counted, had been…

He pushed the thought away, but it didn't want to go. His romance-if you could call it that-with the Bann of Rainesfere had been short, bittersweet and almost entirely one-sided. Oh, no doubt that Teagan had enjoyed his company and his body, but the Bann wasn't interested-or available-for more than a short fling, especially with a Gray Warden Mage. A _male_ Gray Warden Mage, most especially. Eagan's flings with men were just that-flings. He was determined to settle down, marry some fat sow, and start dutifully producing children…

_And probably continue to bugger the soldiers in the guardroom when no one's looking, _Daylen thought a touch sourly. _Never mind what the soldiers think of it, as long as everyone keeps hush hush and no one upsets the pregnant Lady…_

He knew he wasn't being very fair to Teagan. The Bann hadn't made any attempt to hide the nature of their 'relationship', nor had he encouraged Daylen's affections or promised anything more than what he'd delivered. It wasn't Teagan's fault that Daylen had, for one reason and another, fallen hard and fast for the charismatic man.

_I should take a lover, _he thought with a sigh. _There's plenty willing. There's no reason I should be so alone._

Daylen undid his pants and let them fall too, then stepped out of them. Clad now only in his small-clothes, he padded to the bathroom, once again blessing the designers of the Keep. Having a private bathroom in his chambers had been an unexpected and welcome luxury when he'd first come here, and he'd felt no remorse at all in snagging the set of rooms for himself. He was, after all, the Commander of the Grey in Fereldin. He was entitled to a _little_ bit of luxury, wasn't he? _Especially when one considers all the duties, obligations and drawbacks of being a Gray Warden, Commander, Mage and Hero at the same time._

As his hand fell on the knob, there was a knock at the door. Scowling, he hesitated, but duty won over pleasure. Snagging his lounging robe, he shrugged it on, tucking it closed before pulling the outer door open to reveal Seneschal Garavel, his hand upraised to knock again on the heavy wood. The blonde man looked startled. He was clutching a sheathe of papers in his hand that made Daylen want to bite him, and not in a good way. Mastering his surge of frustration-did he not get a moment alone?-Daylen swallowed the words that leapt to his lips and forced a pleasant smile onto his face instead. "Can I help you?"

Garavel blinked, and then unaccountably flushed-Daylen was surprised a little. It wasn't like he was naked or something. Just a little skin…then again, he had no idea what Garavel's upbringing had been like. Some of these noble families in Ferelden were pretty strict and tight.

"I brought you the report tallies from the recovery effort." Garavel said, clearing his throat. "You told me you wanted them as soon as possible."

"I did…" Daylen sighed, and then rubbed his eyes. "I just got in from the Tour…" He hesitated, then suddenly grinned. "Tell you what. I need to get into a bath. Do you mind reading them aloud?" He missed Seneschal Varel badly in moments like these-Varel would have taken one look at him, dumped the papers on the bed, and physically carried Daylen to the bath chamber. Not that Varel would have done anything with him-the previous Seneschal had been, despite admitting to being physically attracted to the new Warden Commander-a stickler for rank and propriety.

"I…no?" Garavel said, eyeing him a bit warily. They were still working on their working relationship. To be fair, there hadn't been a great deal of time between the attack and now to get to know Garavel better. Daylen made a mental note to change that as soon as possible.

"Good. You can read them to me through the door." Daylen liked this solution. He was doing his duty and still getting warm and resting. Seemed like the best of both worlds to him.

Garavel blinked, then shrugged, a touch wryly. "I'd rather not sit in the room with you while you bathe…" he said, dryly. "How about I stand on this side of the door and read them to you?"

Daylen snorted. "Rather prudish of you?" When Garavel opened his mouth to protest, flushing, Daylen laughed and raised his hands. "I'm kidding. Calm down. Whatever makes you the most comfortable, Seneschal." Another sticking point. Varel would have pulled up a chair and read them, and no matter how much he tried Daylen wouldn't have caught Varel peeking. He'd have been peeking, of course, but Daylen wouldn't have caught him.

_Everyone I love either doesn't love me, leaves me, or both,_ he thought suddenly. The thought wiped away the cheer that had started to form with his memories of Varel. _Duncan left me, Alistair turned his back on me, Garavel left me, Teagan didn't want me, Zevran didn't want me…_

With an effort, he shoved away those thoughts too, but he could feel them piling up in the back of his mind. He'd have to deal with it all sooner rather than later, but not just right now.

Garavel humped a bit, and then suddenly grinned. "Can't help it. I'm an old fashioned geezer, Commander. Now, get into the tub before your toes fall off."

_It's not my toes I'm worried about_, Daylen thought but managed not to say. Still, the unexpected retort from Garavel lightened his mood just a little. Chuckling, he padded into the bathroom, closing the door mostly behind him, and ran the water into the big wooden tub. Most people had to warm up the fireplace and go through stocking the boiler to get warm water, but Daylen wasn't most people. Thankfully. He was tired, but this didn't take much energy; closing his eyes, he gathered up the scraps of his mana reserves and carefully heated the water. It felt good to use his magic for something non-destructive and precise, rather than blasting away at things.

"Commander?" Garavel's voice recalled him to his duties. Sighing, he rose, then stripped off the lounging robe and undid his small-clothes. "Go ahead, Garavel."

Slipping into the water, he sighed in relief as the warmth immediately went to work on his sore, aching shoulders. Garavel's voice began to drone through the door, calling out facts and figures in a merciless line. Daylen tried to force his mind to concentrate, because it wanted to circle back into itself. _I'm so tired, that's all. It's too hard to be cheerful and optimistic when I'm completely exhausted. I just needed some sleep, and I'll regain the proper mind-set. Sleep and maybe a good strong tumble. One of the Wardens, I think. Easier to arrange, and probably easier to deal with. _

"…winter Wheat came in well, despite our fears, and we have 100% storage capacity. We sent the excess to Amaranthine to be distributed amongst the poorer families. The Granaries where we kept oats are still being rebuilt, but we've managed to put up temporary storage that can hold us for about two months, as long as this doesn't turn into feet of snow…"

_Teagan would probably be paying close attention to everything Garavel is saying, _he thought suddenly. _Despite his complaints about it, Teagan was actually a pretty good Bann. His people loved him, I could tell. I wonder what the people think about me?_

He sighed, lifting his hand to rub his eyes. In all honesty, he didn't really _care_ what the people thought of him…which probably made him a pretty damn bad Arl. He'd never wanted to be an Arl, never asked for it and certainly had never dreamt of it. Being saddled with Vigil's Keep and an Arl-hood on top of it…

_I didn't want it. I don't want it._ He couldn't help the slightly childish whine in his mental voice. _I'm tired of being in charge. I'm tired of being the Commander. I'm tired of being so alone…_

"…_our duty to Fereldin…"_

"…supplied us with plenty of raw ore, but the shortage of skilled workers continues. We estimate…"

"…_think we should take this to the bedroom, my dear Warden…"_

"…Commander?"

Daylen blinked, jerked out of his semi-doze. Flushing, he sat up, coughing a little, and tried desperately to think what Garavel had just been saying.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" Garavel asked again, sounding a touch worried. "I know I should have waited for you, but it seemed urgent and I…"

"I'm sure it's fine." Daylen hastened to reassure him, privately thinking that Garavel needed the reassurance. He was doing a damn good job as the Seneschal, all things considering. Stepping into Varel's boots was a big responsibility and there was no doubt that Garavel was probably feeling a bit overwhelmed, but the Keep was running, repairs were underway, and no one was going to starve.

"Thank you, Commander." Garavel said, sounding relieved. "Back to the report. We have plenty of raw timber as well, but…"

Daylen sank back into the water, but his mind was again not on Garavel's words.

Or more accurately, it was on Garavel's _words_, but not precisely on what the man was _saying._

_He sounds exactly like…no, I must be imagining it. I really must. _ But he wasn't.

Garavel's voice sounded exactly like Bann Teagan. The inflections were a little different, but there was no mistaking it, now that he'd noticed.

_Teagan…_

Daylen closed his eyes, listening to Garavel's voice as it flowed over him. It was easy to imagine Teagan standing on the other side of the door instead of his staunch Seneschal. Teagan, his storm-grey eyes lit up with that inner fire, his thin lips curled up at the corners in that smile he never seemed to be able to stop…

Without even thinking about it, Daylen's hands began to gently stroke over his chest. Gods, he missed Teagan, more than he should. More than Teagan would want him too. Maybe it wasn't really Teagan he missed, but the feeling of being cared for, of being wanted, not as the Warden-Commander, not as the Hero of Fereldin, just as…just as Daylen…

He gently fondled his nipples, biting his lip to keep down the moan that wanted to sneak out, and listened for Garavel's voice again. The Seneschal was droning on about weaponry and armaments now. Flicking his tongue over his lips, Daylen allowed his hand to slide over his slender stomach, fingers tracing his pale skin, imagining hard that they were not his own fingers. That the voice he was hearing was Teagan's, and that his ex-lover was here, with him…

"…believe we can get enough helmets, but we are going to be short on, of all things, boots. Wade and Herrin assure me they can produce enough breastplates to go around, especially since they're essentially one-size-fits-all, but boots have to be made specially. I've taken the liberty of contacting my sources in Denerim and we think we will be able to find a couple of boot-makers willing to move here for a short time…"

Daylen dipped his fingers below the line of water and raked them lightly through the dark curl of hair at the base of his shaft, biting his lip again. He'd have to be very quiet; Garavel would probably have a heart attack if he knew what was going on in here. The thought brought a brief, if bitter, smile to Daylen's face.

_Another one who doesn't want me…_

He shoved it aside and wrapped his fingers firmly around his already half-hard member, his thumb stroking lightly along the underside. Garavel's voice-_Teagan's voice_-continued to slide over him, wrapping him in a cocoon of sound and pleasure. So easy to imagine this happening with Teagan; the Bann would have enjoyed the teasing, but he'd have been in the room, of course…

The image of Teagan standing at the head of the bath, watching Daylen's actions, reading the reports, was almost the rest of what he needed. Moaning low in his chest, he began to stroke his cock, his hips lightly rolling in the tub. The sound of sloshing water would be explained by him actually bathing, but the moans…once again, Daylen made a tremendous effort, swallowing the noises he wanted, needed to make. As Garavel's voice continued towards the end of the report, Daylen's hand moved faster, his thumb flicking up to rub his sensitive head, his fingers twisting and squeezing. Moans he couldn't let loose built up in his chest, vying with the pleasurable, twisting sensation in his stomach. Gasping, he began to stroke frantically, his free hand twisting his nipple almost painfully. He felt his balls tightening and knew he was close, so very close…

"Teagan…" The word was a breath on Daylen's lips, barely spoken, but it was the signal for his release. Arching his back, he rolled his head, his eyes tightly closed, as his cock sputtered onto his chest. Spasms rolled through him and the water splashed again, slopping over the edge to wet the tiles. Daylen didn't care, his hand still working furiously on his cock, dragging every bit of sensation he could out of his release. "mmm…"

When he'd calmed, he reluctantly cleaned himself. The water was starting to get luke-warm and from the sound of it, Garavel was winding down as well. Climbing out of the tub, he dried himself off, then slipped his robe back on, feeling the ache of every bruise and strained muscle…

…and the quieter, but fiercer, ache of being so very alone deep in his heart.

He paced to the door and pushed it open. Garavel looked up in surprise, his cheeks flushed again. Daylen didn't have the energy to spare caring about why Garavel was blushing _this_ time-probably his exposed chest. "Is that all?" he asked, moving to pour himself some wine.

"Yes." Garavel said quietly. "Do you have any questions or recommendations?"

Surprisingly, Daylen found he did. Sipping the wine, he made a few points (his mind had been paying more attention to the man's words than he'd thought, which was a good thing. Multi-tasking had always been a skill of his. No better time to use it, he supposed.) When they were done, he shooed Garavel towards the door, feeling the irresistible call of his bed. His body hurt, his lip-where he'd been trying to bite back his moans-was bleeding, and most of all, he could feel the leaden, heavy feeling in his legs and arms was getting worse.

"Commander…" Garavel hesitated at the door. Surprised, raised his eyebrow questioningly, feeling his muddled head trying to get his attention.

"You should eat." Garavel said finally, sounding slightly peevish. "You haven't had anything all day, and you're exhausted…" For some reason, Daylen didn't think it was what Garavel had been _wanting_ to say, but he couldn't, for the life of him, sort it out right now. Simply thinking at all was a trial. He dismissed it for later, and then realized he'd not even thought about what Garavel had said, so he focused his attention on the words. When the full import of what the Seneschal had said finally dawned, Daylen found himself smiling. That the man cared, even if just a little…it didn't ease the ache inside of him, but it at least it touched him. "I promise. They're supposed to send up dinner for me. I'll eat and then crawl into bed."

Garavel gave him a look, then nodded. "I'll do my best not to disturb your sleep." He promised, drawing himself up. "Good night, Commander."

"Good night, T…" He caught himself-too tired, too easy to slip. "Seneschal Garavel."

Garavel seemed to notice the slip, but only gave him an odd look, then left. Closing the door behind him, Daylen leaned on the rough wood and closed his eyes, allowing the tears to escape. The relief he'd experienced wasn't enough. Still, it would have to be. Drawing himself up, he forced the pain away, again, and practiced smiling.

It hurt, but he'd get the hang of it eventually.

…


End file.
